


Little Heartbeats

by forgetyouinsiberia



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Family, Father/son relationships, Fluff, I promise, M/M, Other, good ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3682398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetyouinsiberia/pseuds/forgetyouinsiberia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago, Harvey proposed to Mike, and the two decided to pursue having a child before their wedding. But when a hate-crime nearly killed them, Harvey backed out, and their relationship continued only in a mutual parenting aspect. </p><p>The problem with having two geniuses as fathers is that it make Oliver Specter a little genius all on his own. And he's determined to do whatever it takes to get his dads back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_ Chapter 1 _

 

“Oliver Ross Specter, get a wiggle in it!” Harvey yells as he stuffs the last of his briefs into his briefcase. For a four year old, his son is usually much more prompt in the morning--not much of a surprise, given both his parents are lawyers, Harvey supposes--but the past few days, the kid has been spending dragging his feet every morning.

The small boy slumps into the kitchen with a scowl on his face, and Harvey can’t help but chuckle at the expression.

“You know I can’t go when you yell,” Oliver whines.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harvey mutters. He gives the boy a once-over--his russet hair is perfectly spiked and waxed into place, and his black button-down shirt is wrinkle-free. Harvey blames Mike entirely for that look. He’s the one who insists the kid be ‘hip’. Harvey’s happy enough just to see him dressed halfway decently. They’ve just come out of a three month phase where all Oliver wanted to wear was a Batman outfit, complete with mask and cape. Of course, Mike only fed into that addiction by letting the kid watch every Batman show and movie on the planet for weeks on end.

“Your zipper’s down,” Harvey comments as he grabs his coffee from under the machine and pours it into a to-go cup.

“It’s stuck,” Oliver tells him matter-of-factly. “I can’t get it.”

Harvey settles his cup on the counter and waves the boy over. Oliver walks up and Harvey hoists him up off the floor, settles him on the breakfast counter. He finds the zipper, tugs on it a few times to no avail. After pulling the cover flap aside, he spots fabric caught in the denim, pulls it free and then tugs the zipper firmly into place.

“Alright, kid, lets go,” Harvey says as he wraps an arm around Oliver’s torso. The boy wraps his arms around his father’s neck and his legs around Harvey’s hips. Harvey tosses his bag over his shoulder and then grabs his cup from the bar before heading for the door.

“Grab the keys out of my bag,” Harvey tells Oliver as he walks. The boy maneuvers around him like a monkey, and Harvey would complain if it was any other kid, he’d be throwing a fit, but Oliver is his so it’s hard to find a reason to complain.

The boy leans back up and jangles the keys in front of Harvey. Harvey takes them by the key ring onto his left ring finger and hands his coffee off to Oliver before opening the door and stepping out.

“Took you long enough,” Mike comments as they step outside the door. Oliver wiggles at Harvey’s side, and Harvey takes the coffee from him before setting the boy on his feet.

“Daddy!” Oliver cheers at Mike. Mike picks him up as Harvey locks the door to his penthouse and then the three of them move down the hall towards the elevator.

“Talk to your son,” Harvey finally responds before taking a sip of his coffee. “The kid is dragging his feet everywhere lately.”

Mike’s brow furrows, and he lifts a hand to the boy’s forehead. Oliver scowls at him, leans back from Mike’s touch.

“No fever. Feeling sick at all?” Mike asks. Oliver shakes his head.

“Yet he insists he’s busy,” Harvey says as they step onto the elevator. He punches the button for the lobby as his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, checks the message, and then returns the phone to his pocket. “Ray is here.”

“Daddy come for dinner tonight,” Oliver says as Mike pulls an iPod touch from his bag and hands it to the boy.

Mike nods, brushes his lips against the boys temple. “Sure, kiddo.” He glances towards Harvey. “You going to be done at a reasonable hour tonight?”

Harvey sighs. They’ve been going around about this for awhile now--him getting out of work at a proper time. Harvey gets it; Oliver will only be this young once, but Harvey wonders if Mike entirely realizes all the requirements of a named partner. Still, Harvey has long since cut back his hours from the days when he turned up at work at seven AM and didn’t leave until after midnight. These days he insists on making it home at least three days a week by seven, but Mike is still the one who takes the brunt of the parenting.

“I’ve got a deposition this afternoon, but by the looks of it, we’ve got a slam-dunk case,” Harvey replies. “You?”

“Opening arguments today against The Michaelson Company, but Judge Carlson is presiding,” Mike explains.

Harvey chuckles as they step off the elevator and head towards the doors. Judge Carlson is well known for keeping a tight nine-to-five schedule, though Harvey suspects it’s really Carlson’s wife who sets his schedule for him.

“Sounds good then,” Harvey replies.

They pass through the doors, nodding to the doorman as they head to the curb. Ray is already standing outside the passenger back seat with the door open and a cup tray in his hand.

“Mr. Specter,” Ray says with a nod to him. Harvey nods back at Ray as Mike slips into the car. Oliver follows slowly behind him, gets into the car with a little nudge from Harvey, and Harvey waits until the boy is settled in his booster seat before he follows. Finally, Ray passes them the coffees in the tray--a vanilla macchiato for Mike, a salted cocoa for Oliver, and a triple shot soy caramel latte that will soon become Harvey’s second coffee for the morning.

Once coffees have been passed out, Ray closes the door, steps away long enough to toss the empty tray, and then rounds the car to the drivers’ side.

“What’s he doing?” Harvey asks Mike as Oliver chews his lip and stares at the iPod touch.

“Playing Candy Crush,” Mike responds.

“Really?” Harvey comments in a tone that is clearly meant to point out that he’s dismayed.

“What?” Mike argues back. “It teaches him problem-solving. Besides, the kid’s already into the two hundreds.”

“Seriously?” Harvey asks in a slightly jealous tone. He’s still stuck on one-twenty-five.

Mike nods. “And he’s listening to The Great Gatsby audiobook.”

Harvey exhales heavily, can’t help rolling his eyes. Only Mike’s son would listen to Gatsby at four. Granted Harvey was no slouch--he’d read it by the time he was in third grade--but still.

“Are you attending the Cancer Foundation’s gala next week with the firm?” Harvey asks as he scrolls through his phone.

Mike glances up from a file he’s reading on his iPad. “Kid-friendly?”

Harvey nods. “Yeah, but it might run late.”

“I’ll talk to Louis then; see if Sheila will take him when she leaves.”  
  
Harvey huffs, but neither man argues the suggestion. Harvey doesn’t think poorly of Sheila or Louis, he just happens to feel that Louis is like Mike with Oliver...but tenfold. The man is easily horrified by an upset child, which usually leads to Oliver getting too much sugar and stimulation. Granted, Sheila is easily on the other end of the spectrum, but that’s also led to himself or Mike receiving tearful phone calls from Oliver because the petite blond woman easily scares him.

.,.

Mike watches Oliver from the doorway of the daycare inside the firm, tapping his foot nervously because he knows he needs to get upstairs soon, but he wants this moment. Of course, selfishly he wants every moment. Oliver is growing up way too fast, and the likelihood of having a second child to watch like this seems to be growing slimmer and slimmer by the day.

“You know after the first year, they stop growing so obnoxiously fast,” Rachel murmurs in his ear as she walks around him to the other side of the door. Mike looks up at her and smiles.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just...having a moment,” he replies. He glances back at Oliver and watches as his son smashes a fistful of play-doh into the craft table.

“Do you and Harvey ever talk about-”

Mike looks back at Rachel with a piercing glare. Her reaction to him causes him to sigh, look to the floor.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “But to answer your question, no. Half the time, Harvey isn’t even open to being a family as we are.”

Rachel frowns. “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” Mike cuts her off. “Just don’t. Please.”

He walks past her, heads for the elevators without another word.

_“Merlot?” Mike asks as he settles two glasses on the breakfast bar.._

_“There should be an ‘85 chardonnay in there,” Harvey replies. Mike ducks out of the room briefly in search of the chardonnay. When he returns a few moments later, he’s all but gaping at Harvey._

_“How did you...?” He mutters as he walks back into the room. Harvey has walked into the kitchen, and meets him halfway between the breakfast bar and--Harvey’s version of--the wine cellar with the two glasses. He takes the bottle from Mike and hands him the glasses before removing the cork, pouring the fizzing liquid into the glasses._

_“You mentioned once that your parents were wine officiandos,” Harvey replies. “I did some digging--and believe me it took a while; I’m pretty sure Donna’s going to be milking payback for ages--and I-”_

_“This is the one,” Mike says with a tight throat. “This bottle...Harvey....”_  
  
_There are tears in the younger mans eyes, and Harvey takes the glasses from Mike, settles them along with the bottle on the counter. His hands cup Mike’s face and he pulls the younger man into him, brushes his lips against Mike’s cheek before hugging him tightly._

_“I know,” he murmurs softly. Mike sighs into him, holds tightly to Harvey for several moments before he pulls back and presses his lips to the older man’s. Harvey’s hands move into Mike’s hair, fingernails digging into scalp as his tongue pushes into Mike’s mouth._

_“I love you so much,” Mike whispers when their lips finally part. Harvey inhales sharply and Mike wraps his fists in the v-neck of Harvey’s t-shirt. It’s a term Harvey still trips over every time, but he doesn’t walk away or panic at the mention of it anymore, and Mike considers that progress._

_“Marry me,” Harvey whispers back. Mike stumbles backwards several steps, utterly shocked t the words._

_“What?”_

_Harvey inhales a deep breath. “I said, marry me?”_

_Mike gulps. “Y....you...what?”_

_“I know it hasn’t been that long,” Harvey says softly._

_“Four months,” Mike replies. “And you haven’t-”_

_“I know,” Harvey cuts him off. “And you know it has nothing to do with me not feeling it. I just...” He pauses, shakes his head, looks back at Mike clearly in the eyes. “I know it. I want this; I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. And we’ve been going ‘round and round on this for three years. I mean, is it that ridiculous an idea?”_

_“...I literally have no clue how to respond to that,” Mike says._

_Harvey steps towards him tentatively, then moves closer when Mike doesn’t back up further. He rests his hand against Mike’s neck, stares at him clear in the eyes. “Just say yes, then.”_

.,.

Mike watches Oliver as the boy charges towards the coffee table, tosses his things to the floor with reckless abandon. Normally he’s all over his son to be somewhat orderly, but the kid hasn’t been able to colour his Batman picture in three days, so he allows it.

He wrestles the noose of his tie free from his neck, tugs it over his head and then tosses it onto the couch without a second thought. Harvey hates that he’s so callous with his clothes, in fact Mike is sure that the older man entirely disapproves. But Mike doesn’t spend his time tearing clothes out of Harvey’s closet--at least not anymore--so he figures the older man doesn’t have much room to complain these days.

“What do you want for dinner?” Mike asks as he heads for the kitchen. “And don’t say ice cream.” He doesn’t even have to look back to see the scowl on Oliver’s face.

After several moments of silence, Oliver finally requests spaghetti, and Mike sets about preparing the food. The apartment is relatively quiet, aside from the typical noises emitted from moving pots and pans around while Mike starts the cooking.

Once the noodles are on the stove, Mike settles at the breakfast bar with his laptop and starts looking over the paperwork for his trial. He’s come a long way from that failure in housing court. Granted, he still works at Pearson Specter which means seeing very little time in a court room, but the days that he does spend inside one generally work in his favour. Since achieving the status of senior partner, he’s only lost two cases, and he’s pretty sure both losses involved withheld evidence.

Oliver comes into the room while Mike is working, but doesn’t disturb him. The kid opens the fridge, grabs a juice box, and then returns to the sitting room without a word. It’s a type of silence Mike is used to--the kid usually doesn’t say much when he’s focused on something--very Harvey Specter of him.

A minute or so later, music fills the penthouse from the other room. Mike smirks as he continues his work his work. He’s not even sure how the kid figured out the sound system--it was Harvey’s idea to put it in back when Oliver was barely more than a few months old, but in the past year it seems that along with his knowledge of speaking full sentences came the understanding of knowing what every button on the stereo does.

Daughtry pumps through the stereo speakers and Mike chuckles to himself. Harvey would hardly approve--his taste in music generally doesn’t include newer artists, and the newer music he does listen to is mostly jazz or adult contemporary.

Aside from the music, silence continues to wither throughout the penthouse. Mike occasionally checks the noodles, starts on the meat for the sauce when the noodles are almost finished.

The door opens when he’s draining off the juice from the meat.

“What is this god awful noise coming from that beautiful sound system?”

Mike laughs, shakes his head as he returns the pan to the stove with the drained meat. Afterwards, he retrieves the sauce from the fridge. It’s homemade, of course. Though she’d never admit it inside of the firm, Donna’s got a soft spot for home cooking, and it seems over the past few years that she’s got an even bigger soft spot for feeding other people.

When Harvey walks into the kitchen, Mike is pouring the last of the sauce into the pan.

“Are there mushrooms in there?” He asks. Mike shakes his head. Harvey heads for the fridge.

“You might want to check with the kid first,” Mike comments. “He’s having this whole thing with things grown out of the ground.”

Harvey furrows a brow at him. “I watched him inhale an apple at lunch today.”

“I don’t know,” Mike shrugs. “i’m just forewarning you.”

“Ollie!” Harvey yells over the music. A few minutes later, the kid charges into the room with a scowl firm on his face.

“What!?”

Harvey and Mike both glare at him, and the kid takes his attitude down a few notches.

“What?” He asks in a tamer tone.

“You want mushrooms in the sauce?” Harvey asks. Oliver nods eagerly. Harvey chuckles as he glances at Mike, who just shrugs.

Harvey opens the fridge and grabs mushrooms, walks over to the sink. He pulls several out and cleans them off before heading towards the counter with them. Mike settles a cutting board on the counter for him along with a knife before walking into the sitting room behind Oliver. He walks over to the sound system and turns the music down a bit before peering over Oliver’s shoulder for a bit, watching as the kid colors Batman’s cape. The kid is determined with his coloring; rather than scribbling all over the page, he keeps inside the lines as best he can,moves his markers with meticulous precision.

“Did Dad let you watch the Iron Man movie last night?” Mike asks while he continues to watch Oliver color.

Oliver nods.

“It was awesome.” He turns to look up at Mike. “Can we watch the next one tonight?”

Mike chuckles. “Sure, kiddo.”

Oliver grins at him. He turns his attention back to his coloring for a moment, and then looks back up at Mike.

“Wanna color with me?”

Mike smiles, pats the kid on the back before sitting down next to him. He grabs the large folder of coloring pages and pulls out the one he’s been working on for the past several days. He settles it in front of himself on the table and then grabs a marker and starts coloring.

_“Should we tell anyone,” Mike asks as he watches Harvey walk back in the bedroom with two cups of cocoa. They’ve both been sated by dinner and a heated shower--in more ways than one. Still, they’re both too wired to get any sleep yet._

_Harvey passes him one of the mugs and shrugs. “I’m sure Donna will have it figured out before I’ve even stepped inside my office tomorrow morning.”_

_Mike chuckles at the statement, even though he’s aware that Harvey’s probably right. Donna is far from stupid, and she seems to know what’s happening long before anyone else does, half the time._

_“She’ll insist on planning the wedding,” Harvey groans after a moment. Mike chuckles, but then realizes what that would entail. Donna would want to nail down details within a matter of weeks, and most-likely push for a wedding sooner, rather than later. And regardless of the fact that Harvey and he have been going back and forth on their romantic entanglements for the past three years, Mike’s not entirely sure he wants to rush into a wedding either. He consider what could fall into place as a stopgap, wracks his brain for an idea. And then Harvey looks up at him, his eyes lit up._

_“What?” Mike asks, curious._

_“What if we have a baby?”_

After Harvey finishes cooking the mushrooms, Mike and Oliver abandon their coloring for dinner, and the three men settle around the table in Mike’s dining room. Mike hates it most of the time--it’s an eight seat table that he bought with Harvey back when Oliver was still in utero, mostly because at the time they were hosting their friends quite often. Somehow Harvey managed to convince him that he needed a table when they split up, though Mike has always been sure it’s because Harvey didn’t want the reminder of the relationship he didn’t stick out. And as much as Mike wishes he could just sell the table to someone else and get another, he’s never been able to bring himself to do so.

“Rachel said that I go over and play with Callie and Logan Jr this weekend,” Oliver announces while Mike is shoveling a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “So can I go, daddy?”

Mike considers it. His schedule with Harvey is a little ridiculous. They each get three and a half days--Harvey gets Sunday until Wednesday morning, and Mike gets Wednesday afternoon through Saturday. It’s a less-than-perfect scenario, but living in the same hallway of the same building helps a lot. More often than not, Mike is the one who gets Oliver to bed--whether Harvey’s home or not--and they try to spend as much time together as a family as possible.

Still, it doesn’t change the fact that Mike hates the days where Oliver isn’t sleeping in his apartment.

“I’ll think about it,” he announces finally. “Finish up.”

Oliver scowls at Mike’s response, but doesn’t argue, and because he doesn’t, Mike won’t scold him for pouting. He knows the kid is assuming Mike’s pondering is an automatic no--which isn’t necessarily the case--but trying to explain that to a four year old is only going to try his patience.

When he looks up at Harvey, the older man is staring down at his phone, moving one finger across the screen--Mike thinks he’s scrolling through an article--while his other hand turns the fork on his plate, stringing up another forkful of spaghetti for himself.

At one point in the past, he probably would’ve said something to Harvey about stepping away from electronics and work during family time, but he’s long since run out of patience. The argument usually doesn’t achieve anything other than upsetting Oliver, and by the time Harvey apologizes about being a dick about it, Mike is over being angry about it. So instead, he leaves Harvey to his phone, and then polishes off his own dinner before heading out of the room to start a bath for Oliver.

When Oliver is finished himself, the little boy joins Mike in the sitting room and helps him clean up the coloring materials, along with some of Oliver’s toys that he pulled out and played with briefly. Afterwards, he sends Oliver to the bathroom to get into the waiting water while Mike steps into his bedroom long enough to change into a t-shirt and jogging pants.

When he walks into the bathroom, Oliver playing with the bath paint, scribbling on the walls. Mike settles on the floor with his phone and lets the kid play for a while, occasionally glancing up and chuckling when he hears Oliver mutter something giggle-worthy.

After some fifteen minutes, Mike announces that it’s time to get washed up, and he makes the kid settle down in the water. After he’s gotten him clean, he wraps Oliver tightly in a towel and sends him off towards his bedroom while he wipes the bath paint off the wall and then pulls the plug on the drain, heads to Oliver’s room. When he enters, the kid is struggling to tug a batman t-shirt over his wet body.

“Slow down,” Mike chuckles as he settles on the edge of Oliver’s toddler-sized bed. He grabs the towel and dries Oliver more thoroughly before helping him get the shirt down, and then helps the kid finish getting dressed.

“We still watch Iron Man, daddy?” Oliver asks, clearly trying to stifle a yawn. Mike can’t help smiling. When the kid gets tired, his baby-talk comes out, and it always makes Mike’s heart swell.

He glances over at the clock and grimaces.

“We can start it,” Mike tells him instead. “And then we’ll finish it tomorrow. Okay?”  
  
Oliver blinks slowly, in that I’ll agree to that because I’m too tired to argue expression, and Mike scoops him up as he stands up, heads through the apartment towards the sitting room. It’s dark and quiet, and it’s pretty obvious to him that Harvey has left.

Once he’s got Oliver settled in the sitting room with a blanket, he starts the movie and settles down next to him. While Oliver curls into his ribs, clearly fighting sleep with every breath, Mike reads notes he made on his iPad after opening arguments that morning. It’s not really that he needs to--he remembers anything and everything--but he’s no different than anyone else when it comes to strategic moves. Sometimes you have to look things over again and again to spot something right in front of your face.

Some thirty minutes later, Mike can feel Oliver puffing against his ribs, fast asleep. He turns the iPad off and then eases out from under Oliver before scooping him up and walking down the hall to Oliver’s bedroom. He hopes the kid will stay in his bed for the whole night, but lately it seems that the smallest noise in the middle of the night has sent him running into Mike’s bed in fear.

Oliver sighs as Mike settles him into the bed, brushes his hand through the kid’s hair before he kisses his forehead. Oliver mutters something unintelligible before turning onto his side and curling up. Mike tucks the blankets up around him and then heads into the kitchen. He grabs a beer from the fridge and pops the top off of it, tosses back a log swig before heading back into the sitting room.

As he begins finishing cleaning up, the door opens slowly and quietly, and Mike glances up to see Harvey slipping through the door.

The older man’s expression drops, clearly disappointed as he looks around.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as Mike drops a stuffed dog into a basket of stuffed animals. With his back to Harvey, Mike rolls his eyes. He’s so used to the apologies that he’s over them.

“It’s fine,” he says when he turns around. “He was tired after his bath. Passed out.”

“Mike, I’m sorry,” Harvey says again, this time more earnest. “I just-”

“Harvey, I don’t care anymore,” Mike insists, his hands up in surrender. “I don’t really give a fuck what you do these days, but don’t give Oliver ideas and then take them away.”

“I’m trying,” Harvey tells him, clearly getting angry. “I’m doing everything I can. But-”  
  
”But nothing,” Harvey. I really don’t want to hear it anymore. I’m tired of playing this game where you let our son believe there’s a chance he can have his family all together, and then the next moment you’re nowhere to be found.”

“Mike-”  
  
”Someone’s got to be the adult here, Harvey. Someone has to be the one who decides that being a parent is more important than getting laid two or three nights a week. I don’t want to do this anymore,” he says. Harvey huffs, and Mike walks across the room, steps past him and heads towards the kitchen again.

Harvey charges after him, turns Mike around and kisses him.

He’s let this sweep aside his thoughts so many times in that past. That’s what Harvey does best. He swipes away every thought in Mike’s mind as easily as he drops a useless file into the trash. Mike, all too often, has let him do so because it takes too much strength to fight with his own heart. But the fact of the matter is, there’s one person Mike loves more than Harvey.

Mike pushes Harvey off of him and shakes his head disgustedly.

“I won’t do this with you anymore. You’re either all in, or you’re all out, and it’s pretty clear to me that you’re not all in,” Mike says. Even as the words pass his lips though, he struggles to find belief in them. He wants more than anything to just let Harvey drag him to the bedroom and have his way.

“I’m sorry,” Harvey says softly, resigned. Mike only nods in response.

_It started out as a lie. Harvey wasn’t actually serious about having a kid, and Mike knew that. It was only supposed to be a ploy to keep Donna off their backs. Still, somehow Mike finds himself taking interest when Donna shows him the brochures from the adoption agencies in Manhattan, and his curiosity is even more piqued at the suggestion of surrogacy._

_Granted, he’s always known he wanted kids--there was never any question. If nothing else, he wanted to pass on his surname, but even at that...on some level he’s always imagined a future with kids running around, calling him dad. And even though he knows it seems like a crazy idea--the initial suggestion was as well, after all--the more time he spends talking about it, the more he wants it._

_Which is how a full month to the day that Harvey first suggested the half-baked scheme of pretending to want to have a kid, Mike finds himself trying to compose an argument as to why the two of them having a kid together is the greatest idea on the planet._

_The only problem is, he can’t think of a single irrefutable reason as to why Harvey should agree with him._

_“Mike?”_

_He looks up from his laptop, sees Harvey looking over his shoulder with a confused expression. Mike gulps._

_“You’re looking at surrogacy websites?” Harvey asks. Mike opens his mouth and tries to find the words to respond, but they’re dead on his lips._

_Harvey reaches out and moves Mike’s laptop from his lap as he walks around the couch. He settles the laptop on the coffee table and then picks Mike’s legs up off the couch long enough to sit down underneath them._

_“Should we be having a more serious conversation about this?” Harvey asks._

_Mike inhales a deep breath. “I just...I mean, do you actually want kids? At all?”_

_Harvey nods without even considering the question._

_“It’s always been in the cards,” he says. “I just never knew if someone would come along and want to do it with me. But...” Harvey pauses, considers how he wants to phrase his statement. “I mean, is this something you really want to do now?”_

_“I think so,” Mike replies. “Just looking at the process of how long it’s going to take to even find someone, and then get the ball rolling, metaphorically speaking-”_  
  
_”Yeah, I get it,” Harvey says after a moment, in regards to the actual getting pregnant process. He inhales a deep breath and considers what Mike is suggesting. “So how do we do it?”_

When Harvey has left and Mike’s finished cleaning up his apartment, he settles at the kitchen counter with his iPad, reading over his notes from that morning once more. Or at least, he tries.

After twenty minutes of distracted reading, he finally turns the tablet off and walks away from the counter over to the fridge. As he pulls it open, intent on grabbing another beer, his gaze falls to the bottom rack inside the door. In the corner, the bottle of chardonnay from the night Harvey proposed. The same bottle Harvey had Donna seek out for weeks, because Mike’s parents were gifted it on their wedding night from his grandfather.

He should really throw it away, just like he should give up on Harvey and move on once and for all.

But there it sits.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the story being listed as a oneshot! I'm still new with WIPs on AO3, and I forgot to hit the multi-chapter box! Hopefully it's fixed now, as the story is NOT finished yet. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

The sun is barely cresting the horizon when Mike wakes the next morning. It’s Tuesday, so normally Oliver would go home early with Harvey while Mike crams in as much work as he can, but given that he’s on trial with a judge who’s wife runs him, his schedule is open for his son.

He scrubs a hand down his face as he opens his eyes for the second time. He glances around the room, shifts a bit, and realizes the warmth huddled at his hip is a human, not just his blankets. He turns his head and glances down, spots Oliver snuggled up in a ball. Mike exhales a breath, frowns somewhat at the thought that he has to get the kid to sleep in his own bed.

He reaches up for his phone and texts Harvey, and then slips out from under the blankets. He tugs a long-sleeved navy blue shirt over his head and grabs a stray pair of jogging pants from the floor as he heads over to the door, exits the bedroom. By the time he’s finished dressing and has coffee brewing in the machine, Harvey has entered the apartment and is heading into towards him, freshly showered and dressed in suit pants and a white button-down. His vest is on, though not buttoned yet.

“How long can you stay?” Mike asks as he slips his running shoes on. Harvey glances at his watch as he settles his coffee mug on the counter.

“Ray’ll be here in about forty five minutes,” Harvey says.

“Then I’ll be back in thirty.”  
  
Mike heads out of the apartment and over to the elevator, punches the button for the second floor where the gym is once he’s inside.

This is usually his and Harvey’s morning routine. One of them gets up at five thirty, works out and showers before heading to the other’s apartment and sitting with Oliver until they’ve returned from their own workout. Harvey almost always takes the first shift, which is great when Oliver is with him, but it royally sucks when he’s at Harvey’s.

_They’re somewhat odd when it comes to Oliver’s birth father, and by odd--as they tell people--they mean that they’ve decided they don’t want to know. It just so happened that one of Pearson Specter’s clients helps match parents to surrogates, so after Mike and Harvey went through the lengthy screening process, they settled on Gia._

_She’s a twenty-four year old who’s already been a surrogate once before when she was finishing college a year and a half earlier. It was important to Mike and Harvey that the person who carried their child was okay with their sexual orientation, but they’d quickly found out that Gia’s first surrogacy was also for a gay couple, which helped to keep their fears at bay._

_“You have someone to help take care of you day-to-day, right?” Harvey asks as he looks down at the contract on the table. It was a standard contract drawn up by the surrogacy agency, but he, Mike, and Louis have also combed through it with a fine-toothed comb to make sure it fit their standards._

_“Yes,” Gia says, chuckling softly. “My husband has been through this with me before. We’re well versed in the day-to-day trials of pregnancy.”_

_“I just don’t want something to happen and we’re not there,” Harvey replies, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Mike pats the back of his head and then rubs his hand down to Harvey’s neck, massaging the muscles there._

_“Don’t mind his overbearing nature. He’s just utterly terrified,” Mike jokes._

_Gia shrugs it off, still keeping her humorous expression._

_“I only have one question,” she says, “and legally you guys don’t even have to answer; it’s just my own curiosity.”_

_“Okay?” Mike asks._

_“Have you decided who the biological parent will be?” Gia asks._

_“Harvey literally told the doctor to mix both submissions together and see what happens,” Mike tells her. “Honestly though, I think he’s just implanting two embryos. Hopefully one implants.”_

_“And if they both do?” Gia asks. Harvey groans._

_“Oh god.”_

_Mike and Gia just laugh._

.,.

When Oliver wakes up, he can hear his dads talking in the other room. They’re quiet, so he can’t really make out what they’re saying, but he doesn’t think it’s happy talk.

He loves his dads. In fact, he thinks they’re downright awesome. Daddy always tells him about how him and Dad used to be like Batman and Robin at work, lots and lots of years ago before Ollie was a glimmer in their eyes. Oliver doesn’t know what he he means by that because the only time he sees a glimmer in someone’s eyes is when they’re about to cry, but he tries not to over-think it too much because it makes his head hurt.

Anyway, Daddy says that he and Dad used to battle the bad guys together, but after a while Dad taught Daddy everything he needed to know, and now they battle the bad guys on their own. Just last month, Dad put a really bad guy in jail for burying...something. Ollie gets bored sometimes when they endlessly about work.

He crawls off of Daddy’s bed and walks over to the door, opens it up a little. He can hear Dad’s voice more clearly as it comes from the kitchen, but it sounds like whatever they’re talking about is done, because Dad is saying goodbye.

“Just give me time to talk about it with you later,” Daddy says. Oliver can see him standing by the front door with his hand on the handle.

“I told you last night, Harvey. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just go.”  
  
Oliver frowns, feels his chin tremble as he moves away from the door. He’s seen Daddy talk to Dad like this before, and it makes him sad. It makes him sad because he knows Daddy is telling Dad he doesn’t want to be together as a family--not the way auntie Rachel and Logan are with their new baby. And Oliver doesn’t understand it, because he knows that Daddy loves Dad the same way auntie Rachel loves Logan. He sees how they look at each other.

He knows Dad loves Daddy too, but he also knows Dad has hurt Daddy a lot. He doesn’t know much about how or why, but he knows it’s happened, because he thinks that’s what makes Daddy scared about loving Dad.

“Ollie?”

Oliver rubs the tears from his eyes as he hops back on Daddy’s bed and pretends to be sleeping, just in time for him to enter the room. Daddy strides over to the side of the bed and shakes him lightly. Oliver pretends to stretch as he rolls over and manages a convincing yawn.

“Time to get up, kiddo,” Daddy says as he ruffles Oliver’s hair.

“Okay,” Oliver murmurs. He looks up at Daddy and exhales a long breath at the look in his eyes. He can see Daddy is sad, even though he’s pretending not to be.

Oliver crawls out of the blankets and into Mike’s lap, wraps his arms tight around Mike’s neck as he kneels on Mike’s thighs. The gesture obviously surprises Mike, but he doesn’t reject it. He hugs Oliver back, rubs his hands up and down the kid’s back until Oliver lets go of him.

“Get dressed and then we’ll get some breakfast before head out.”

.,.

Donna is midway through her lunch with Oliver before she realizes what the kid is talking to her about.

“Wait, Ollie, what do you mean Dad kissed Daddy?”

“I seen him do it,” Oliver crows as he bounces on the seat outside of the cafe she’s brought him to for lunch. For a four year old, he’s been well raised by foodies, and the kid refuses to eat regular chicken tenders like a typical child. No, he wants gourmet grilled cheese instead, made with bread baked in-store.

“When?” Donna asks.

“The, um...the one night...” he pauses, counts on his tiny, fingers that are shiny from the grease on his sandwich. “Three nights ago.”

“Huh,” Donna mutters in a surprised tone. Not because she’s upset or anything--the news actually makes her happy, on some level--but she knows that Oliver seeing his dads kiss is more than likely a bad thing, because she’s seen Harvey go back and forth on Mike over and over again, and it never fails to frustrate her to no end with him.

She gets his fears--she truly and honestly does. The two of them were nearly killed because a group of hateful assholes couldn’t keep their opinions to themselves and decided to take their hate out on Mike and Harvey. Donna understands that almost losing Mike just because Harvey loved him openly scared Harvey shitless. But she also knows that Mike never stopped loving Harvey just because Harvey decided Mike’s safety was more important than his happiness, and this yo-yo game Harvey continues to play with everyone’s feelings is just going to make things worse for them in the long-run. As it is, Oliver is reaching an age where what’s going on in his parents relationship is becoming more apparent to him, and eventually that’s going to be all he sees.

“But my Daddy told him he doesn’t want to be with him no more,” Oliver said sadly, cutting into Donna’s thought process. She looks up at Oliver and can’t help frowning at the look on the kid’s face. Even if Mike and Harvey are the kid’s parents, she’s never been able to help having a maternal bond with him.

“How can they not be together when they aren’t already, auntie Donna?”

Oliver’s voice makes her heart melt, and it’s all Donna can do to not snatch the kid into a hug, if for no other reason than to keep the kid from seeing the tears in her eyes at his statement. There’s so much he doesn’t understand about Harvey and Mike’s relationship, and there’s no real honest-to-God logical way she can explain it to his four year-old brain, no matter how smart he is.

“C’mere,” Donna says as she moves her chair over towards his. When she’s sufficiently moved closer to his chair, Oliver crawls out of his own and into her lap--she’s long forgotten the rage a single splash of coffee used to inflict upon her, never mind a muddy shoe or a hand covered in ketchup.

“I know Dad and Daddy love each other,” Oliver says, and his tone tells Donna that he’s not at all questioning his own words. He’s sure of them. He tilts his head up to look at her, looking all too forlorn for a four year old. “How do I make them tell each other?”  
  
”I don’t know, buddy,” Donna tells him as she gulps past the knot forming in her throat. She hugs the scrawny child in her lap, breathes a sigh of relief as his arms lock tight around her neck in reciprocation.

“I’ll do anything,” Oliver murmurs in her ear. It’s all she needs to hear.

“Then I’ll do whatever you need me to, to help you,” she says.

.,.

Rachel is knee deep in file boxes when Donna walks into the file room and heads over to her.

“If you need something, I-”

“Actually, I do,” Donna says, cutting her off. “But not anything out of here.”

Rachel looks up at her, confused. “Okay?”

“I may have told a four year old that I would help him get his parents back together,” Donna explains. Rachel gapes at her.

“Donna, you did not tell Oliver that you’d get Harvey and Mike back together,” she comments in a scolding tone.

Donna looked at Rachel as though she’d just seen a puppy cry.

“Rachel, you didn’t see the look on his face when he was talking to me today,” Donna tells her. “He wants them together so badly. And you know Mike and Harvey still love each other.”  
  
Rachel sighs. “Donna, you know that it takes a lot more than love to make a relationship work. And Harvey-”

“Harvey needs to pull his head out of the maybe’s and might’s,” Donna says. “Yes, they might fall apart again. Something might happen to one of them. But you and I both know if they don’t figure this shit out eventually, Harvey’s going to regret it when Mike gives up on him completely. Or worse, if something happens to one of them.”

Rachel scowls at Donna, but doesn’t disregard her comments. After a few moments, she settles a handful of files back into one of the boxes beside her and then stands up.

“Alright,” she says. “What do you want me to do?”

.,.

_“We need a new table,” Harvey mutters as he bites down on Mike’s shoulder. Mike grunts, but doesn’t move._

_“What for? This one’s perfectly fine.”_

_“Well, there’s no way we’re going to be able to fit all our friends around it,” Harvey comments. “Not to mention, it’s not nearly big enough for the things I want to do to you in this room.”_

_If the statement surprises Mike, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he turns and curls a finger under Harvey’s chin, tilting the older man’s head up to look at him. He brushes his nose up against Harvey’s, barely kisses him, and then mutters “I guess it’s time to go shopping, then.”_

_An hour later, Mike finds himself standing in the middle of IKEA while Harvey is diligently trying to argue the difference in the type of wood finish on two different tables. Mike doesn’t actually care which one they go with--both are decently sized and have plenty of room--but Harvey’s usually the one to argue the finer details as it is anyway._

_Some twenty minutes pass with Harvey bickering with the man before Mike finally wanders off, somehow ends up by the bassinets, and then his mind is wandering to what it’ll be like when the baby comes._

_Harvey is still a bundle of nerves, and Mike is pretty sure his emotions have grown tenfold since Gia officially found out she was pregnant a few weeks back. It’s still far too early to tell anyone, but Harvey worries as though the kid is coming in a few days._

_As he continues wandering, Mike walks into childen’s area...and he can see everything. He can imagine a little girl playing tea party around the little table, and it makes his heart clench in a way he didn’t know it could. All that quickly, he wants a little their baby already._

_“I wondered where you’d wandered off to.”_  
  
_Mike turns and spots Harvey walking up to him. Harvey is smiling as she spots the set-up Mike is standing near._

_“Thinking about the first five years already?”Harvey asks as he leans down, checks the price tag on the small table._

_Mike shrugs. “I just kind-of started thinking about it, and then it was like I could see it all.”_  
  
_Harvey nods, looks up at him. “Marcus used to call me at three o’clock in the morning when his wife was pregnant, and tell me about all these things he was thinking about. Now I worry about everything he used to be terrified about. And when I call him now, he laughs at me.”_  
  
_Mike smirks, chuckles. “He takes all my calls.”_

_“That’s because Marcus and Sienna like you,” Harvey says as he walks back towards the bassinets._

When Mike gets back to the firm, he finds Oliver in the partners’ kitchen with Donna and Harvey. The kid is emphatically telling them some sort of story when Mike walks into the room.

“Daddy!”

Mike opens his arms as the kid leaps out of the chair into his arms and hugs him. He snatches a french fry off of Oliver’s plate on the table and pops it into his mouth.

“Rachel and I want to do a group dinner this weekend,” Donna tells Mike when he settles Oliver back on his chair. “We’ll cook and everything. Or well, Rachel and Logan will. I’ll just be in the kitchen stealing food.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Mike says as he walks over to the fridge. He pulls out a Starbucks cup with his name on it and removes the lid, walks over to the microwave and puts it in and heats it up. “Where?”

“We want to do it at your place,” Donna tells him. “You’ve got the biggest table.”

Mike glances over at Donna and then at Harvey, refrains from saying something about Harvey having a hand in that, and just nods instead. When the coffee is done heating up, he removes it from the microwave and replaces the lid.

“Alright kid, I have to get some paperwork done, and then we’ll go in a few minutes, okay?” He says to Oliver. Oliver nods, still bouncing in his chair. Mike is sure the kid is hopped up on sugar, which is going to make getting him to sleep tonight rather interesting.

_“Have you considered the actual worst,” Mike asks as he slides under the blankets next to Harvey. They were both covered in paint after doing their best to paint most of the baby’s room earlier that afternoon, though most of the paint came from Harvey deciding that Mike’s hair would be better if it were a shade of turquoise._

_“That Gia miscarries?” Harvey asks. “Sure. I have nightmares about it.”_

_“That’s not what I was referring to,” Mike responds. When Harvey gives him a confused expression, he explains. “What if--God forbid--something happens to one of us? Or if we split up? What happens with the baby?”_

_Harvey stares at him for well over a minute, doesn’t say a word, and Mike is pretty sure it’s because he doesn’t actually have an answer to the question. After a few minutes, Mike shrugs and gives up on getting an answer, readjusts the blankets._

_“It was just a thought,” he says as he moves down on the bed._

_“Well, have you thought about it?” Harvey asks._

_Mike sits back up, looks Harvey straight in the eyes. “It’s hard not to. Both my parents died, Harvey.”_  
  
_Harvey gulps and nods, suddenly realizing why Mike is asking._

 _“Well then, if something happens to me, carry on as you should,” Harvey tells him. “I may be fucking selfish alive, but gone...don’t stay unhappy. Raise our kid with the best person you can find.”_  
  
_Mike nods. “And if you leave?”_

_“Mike, I wou-”_

_“Harvey. Seriously,” Mike insists. “What if you leave?”_

_Harvey inhales a deep breath._

_“If I leave, and you can’t get me to come back by dragging me kicking and screaming,” Harvey says slowly--smirks when he sees the glimmer in Mike’s eyes at his statement. “And if I’m so god-damned dumb that I just don’t get it, move on. I’m sure you’ll make me jealous enough.”_  
  
_Mike raises an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”_

 _Harvey deadpans at him. “If you can’t see how jealous I am just having to share you at work, then we have a problem.”_  
  
_Mike smirks at him. “More than happy to let you show me just how jealous it makes you.”_

  
_And Harvey does._


	3. Chapter 3

Mike shifts forks and knives around on his table in pure frustration as he glances up towards the counter. Harvey is hard at work on dinner--someone decided on lobster before Mike could even render an opinion, and while he can cook decently, he sucks at cooking crustacean. And okay, all their friends prefer Harvey’s cooking. However, the fact that Mike got the big table in their separation means that Harvey does a lot of cooking in his kitchen.

“Mike.”   
  
He looks up, and Donna is waving at him from the doorway. He glances up at Harvey once more and sighs before he stands up straight and walks out of the kitchen. He follows Donna as she walks over to his office and steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“You look like you want to murder him,” she says as she turns around to face him.

Mike rolls his eyes. “He pisses me off. He walks in here like he owns the place, and-”

“And he’s **still** the father of your son. So suck it up, puppy,” she replies. Mike practically scowls at her.

“I haven’t been even near classifiable as a puppy for years. Moreover, I don’t have a **problem** with him being the father of my child. I take issue with the fact that he can’t choose which side of that coin he wants to be on. One minute he wants to be separate and live in his apartment by himself, and the next minute, he wants to be in my bed like we’ve been together all this time. Oliver’s getting older and more aware. We can’t keep doing this shit in front of him,” he says.

Donna raises a hand at him for the briefest moment to stop him, and then tucks it under her elbow. Elegant as always, her dark red satin dress matches--of all things--the red wine she’s had since she arrived thirty minutes earlier. “I agree. For the least of all reasons being that your son is seeing what’s going on between you two, but you also have to be able to be in the same room with Harvey without looking like you’d murder him with your bare hands in one look.”

Mike exhales heavily as he walks over to his desk. He leans back against it, crossing his arms. “Donna, he-”

“He’s Harvey,” she admonishes. “And he’s an asshole. But once upon a time, you loved him. Even if you hate him now, give him the room to be who he is,” she says as she shrugs. All Mike can think is how unfair she’s being.

_“We have to meet Gia today,” Harvey says as he rolls over in bed. Mike shakes his head, pressing his hand to Harvey’s shoulder._

_“She’s five months pregnant. You are not going to get her sick,” Mike insists. “We’ll go tomorrow, or the next day, when you don’t sound like someone took a cheese grater to your vocal chords.”_

_Harvey groans, and Mike leans down to brush his lips against the older man’s forehead. He knows Harvey would be more than happy to get up and go about his day as usual, but doing just that is what’s landed him in this fever-induced state. He’s been working sick for days, and nearly passed out the day before in the middle of a deposition._

_“She’s gonna find out what we’re having without us,” Harvey whines pathetically._

_“No, she won’t,” Mike replies. “She promised weeks ago that if we couldn’t be there, she’d have the doctor write it down and put it in an envelope until we could all be together to find out. Just like you promised that if either of us got ill after the first trimester, we’d stay away so we didn’t get her sick.”_

_Harvey opens his eyes and scowls at Mike. “I want to know **today**.”_

_“Now you’re just being childish,” Mike tells him. For the briefest moment, he’s shocked at himself and the sudden turn of events in their relationship. Normally, Harvey is the one telling Mike to grow up. Then again, Harvey is running a marginally high degree fever._

_“Look, just rest for now, and I’ll see what I can do about getting the information. If nothing else, I’m sure Hunter can bring the DVD by and leave it with the front desk,” Mike says in reference to Gia’s husband._

_“Michael-”_  
  
_”This argument is over, and no level of using my full name will restart it,” Mike responds. He picks up the television remote off his nightstand and restarts the movie he’d been watching before Harvey awoke, fully ending the conversation._

.,.

Oliver is not a clean eater unless it’s impossible to make a mess from the food he’s eating. Lobster is certainly not a clean food, and because of it, Mike is glad that he dressed the kid in jeans and a t-shirt that day, because he’s covered in melted butter.

What’s worse though, is that he didn’t change after getting home from work--granted, nobody did, but still--and Oliver keeps climbing back and forth between Mike’s lap and Harvey’s, leaving a trail of buttery fingerprints as he goes. While Mike finds it hilarious every time Oliver touches Harvey’s shirt because Harvey never says a word even as he becomes more frustrated, Mike isn’t happy about his own clothes being stained.

“So are you guys still going to the gala on Wednesday?” Rachel asks.

“I’ve got the babysitter lined up if I can’t cut out early, so I will be,” Mike replies. He glances towards Harvey, though he doesn’t actually care. “You?”

Harvey clears his throat, inhaling a deep breath. “Yes, but only to speak with current clients. Come next month, Jessica and I are dividing.”  
  
Everyone turns to Harvey and gapes at him.

“What?!”

Mike glares at him. “Seriously? And you weren’t going to tell me about this?”

“It’s been coming for a bit now,” Harvey replies in a tame manner. “We have opposing views on a number of subjects, and she knows that it’s better to separate instead of dividing the firm. As it is, Louis will be there with her to keep Pearson Specter Litt going. Just minus the Specter.”  
  
Mike gapes at him. “What about me?” After a moment, he dares a glance over at Donna and Rachel. “What about them?!”

“I’ve known,” Donna admits softly when Mike looks back at her. “Harvey told me a few weeks ago.”  
  
”And you’re just going to leave?” Mike questions angrily. “Seriously, what the hell?”  
  
”Mike!” Harvey exclaims, covering Oliver’s ears.

Mike glanced over at Rachel, and she was glaring at him too, covering her son’s ears. He exhales and angered breath and pushes his seat back before standing up and walking out of the room. He doesn’t stop walking until he’s out of the penthouse apartment and in the elevator at the end of the hall.

He shouldn’t be surprised. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised. This is exactly something Harvey would do, making a decision that affects him without even acknowledging how it would affect his life. It’s how they ended up where they are today, and Harvey never acknowledges that he did put them there all by himself.

_“Hey, I want to make a plan,” Mike murmurs softly on his phone as he stands in the partner’s kitchen at work. He’s been back since Monday, but Harvey was out the whole weekend and Monday, and had only just broken his fever the afternoon before. He’s not one hundred percent yet, but certainly close enough._

_“Okay,” Gia responds on the other end. “How so?”_

_“Well, he’s still pretty pissed at me that I wouldn’t let him go to the appointment last week, so maybe we can do dinner. I’d do the whole cheesy reveal with paint in a water gun or confetti in a piñata, but I don’t think he’d go for it. So maybe something low key at Carters? Would Hunter be willing to book us a table?” Mike asks. He spots Harvey across the bullpen, walking straight towards the kitchen._

_“I’ll give him a call and see what he can do,” Gia replies._

_“Alright,” Mike says. “I’m about to get caught, so text me when you know something. And maybe we can do dinner all together on Wednesday? Harvey and I should both be able to get out of here early.”_  
  
_”That sounds good,” Gia replies. “If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”_

_Mike barely mutters a response before he ends the call and drops his phone into his pocket and walks over to the fridge, trying to look inconspicuous. He pulls a chilled macchiato that he bought that morning from the fridge and walks over to the microwave as Harvey walks in._

_“Are you still ignoring me?” He asks as he starts the microwave._

_Harvey exhales heavily as he pulls a bowl of mixed fruit out of the fridge. “I’m not ignoring you. I was avoiding screaming at you.”_  
  
_Mike deadpans at him. “Harvey, you were so sick that you nearly passed out in a deposition, and when I took you to the ER, they wanted to hospitalize you. We swore we would do everything we could to make sure that Gia had a safe and healthy pregnancy, but now you don’t care about that anymore.”_

_Harvey scowls, glancing down at the floor. Mike just rolls his eyes and turns back to the microwave, watching the numbers on the timer move far too slowly as the coffee reheats._

_Harvey walks over to him and settles the fruit on the counter, touches Mike’s shoulder gently to get him to turn._

_“I do still care about it. But we get so little involvement in the whole process. I just wanted to be there when the actual appointment happened.” He murmurs softly._

_“Then can you at least act like you don’t hate me?” Mike asks. Harvey leans into him and brushes his nose up against Mike before biting gently on Mike’s bottom lip. Mike tilts his head slightly, glancing towards the doorway. The last thing they need is to get caught. He gently pushes Harvey back. “We can’t afford to get caught after last time.”_

_“We weren’t **doing** anything,” Harvey groans as he picks up his food and moves far enough away that they won’t be suspected of getting handsy._

_“We were in the handicap stall together and caught coming out together, **adjusting clothing**. It hardly made us look very good. People are still giving me funny looks.” Mike tells him._

_“Geeze, if I’d known getting a little rough in bed would lead to be people thinking we’re boning in the partner’s bathroom-”_  
  
_”I **totally** walked in on the wrong conversation,” Donna announces as she walks into the kitchen. Harvey and Mike both flinch, because they know this conversation is going to come back to bite them._

_“We were just talking about when Harvey thought the scratch on his back was infected,” Mike says._

_“Sure, sure,” Donna says dismissively as she starts digging through the fridge._

_“We should end this discussion now,” Harvey says as he opens the utensil drawer. The microwave goes off and Mike turns to pull the reheated drink out. He recaps his drink and then heads out of the kitchen as Harvey speaks once more._

_“Donna, can you get Jack Holland on the phone when you return to your desk? I’m pretty sure he’s about to throw his whole company to the wolves over nothing.”_

  
Rachel and Logan leave shortly after Mike does, but Donna sticks around, settling Oliver up with a movie before she helps Harvey pick up the table.

“You probably should’ve told him sooner,” Donna tells him gently as she starts picking up plates off the table. Harvey already has hot water filling the sink for the dishes and is putting away the leftovers.

“I’ve tried,” he comments in response. “Over and over again. And every time I get close, we end up arguing about something else before I can say a word.”

“Well maybe if you’d stop arguing-”  
  
”I’m not the one starting it,” Harvey tells her insistently. “He starts bitching at me about being exactly who I am, and I can’t compete with the argument.”

Donna settles the last few plates on the counter and then leans against it, staring Harvey down in an admonishing gaze. “You and I both know he’s only that way because he still loves you. And you don’t make it any better by loving him back.”

“I don’t-”  
  
”You do too, Harvey, and you God-damn know it. Mike only hates you because you won’t acknowledge the fact that you only broke up with him because of a hate crime,” Donna exclaims.

Harvey huffs as he drops the plates gently into the filled sink. “I’m not going to get him killed because I can’t keep my hands to myself in public.”

“So it’s better just to let him feel like you only want him in the dark,” Donna surmises. “You realize how shitty that makes you come across, right? See, Mike actually wants you back. After all these years, he’d still let you back into his home and his heart, because he still loves you. I’d be willing to guarantee that when Oliver was born, the last thing he thought was that he’d be the only child you two would end up having. I mean, fuck, Harvey. You promised him a life together and then took it all away.”

Harvey doesn’t respond to what she says as he starts focusing on washing the dishes. He can’t argue with what she’s saying because she’s not wrong. He does still love Mike, and he still wants more than anything for there to be a way for him and Mike to be together in a way that keeps them both safe. But he doesn’t know how.

“I won’t be the one to put his life in danger again,” Harvey says. “It’s not fair.”

“Well God help you, then, if he actually follows through and starts seeing someone else. You think that if **you’re** not with him, then you both can be happy and safe, but that hasn’t happened in four years because neither of you have dated other people. And if he **does** start seeing someone else, he won’t be any safer than if he were still with you. Except that he’ll never be quite as happy.”  
  
When Harvey doesn’t argue her point away, Donna gather’s up her things.

“I’m going home,” she tells him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

.,.

_They get to Carters two hours later, but Gia’s husband is all different kinds of awesome, just like she is, so he stays open late for them. They’re technically closed, but the table Hunter seats them at is still made up with candles lit and napkins folded._

_“You know we could’ve just gone home and eaten,” Harvey says as he settles his napkin in his lap. “I could’ve had steak catered in.”_

_“Don’t worry about it,” Mike says as he peers at the menu. “I figured after we were stuck at home for a few days, we could do something nice.”_

_Harvey looks at him with a skeptical expression, but after a bit he drops it over sheer hunger._

_Hunter walks out of the kitchen a few minutes later with plates already filled, and walks over to them._

_“Gia planned your menu down to dessert,” Hunter says as he places the plates in front of Mike and Harvey. He pulls the lids off of them to reveal their meals--New York ribeye for Harvey, and filet mignon for Mike, both of which they’ve told Gia are their favorites. “I’ll just get your drinks and then I’ll be in the back until you need me.”_  
  
_”Thanks, Hunter,” Harvey says with a smile. “I’ll take a beer. Miller.”_

_“Merlot for me,” Mike says. He’s already picking at his vegetables with his fork. Hunter nods and heads out of the dining area towards the bar._

_Conversation is non-existant, if only because of the fact that they didn’t get out of work until nine PM and are both starving. They thank Hunter when he returns with their drinks, but they’re both more than half-finished with their meals when they start doing more than just smiling at each other._

_“So is that merger going well for you,” Harvey asks as he picks up his second beer from the table._

_Mike shrugs. “They keep fighting over logistical shit, and I have no idea why. In the grand scheme of it all, it’s not anything that either of them will have to deal with day-to-day.”_  
  
_”Maybe they’ve got a thing for one another,” Harvey offers up._

_Mike chuckles. “Maybe. All I know is that I’d like it to end so I wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.”_

_“They’re one of your most billable clients,” Harvey comments._

_Mike nods. “And they’re also one of my most of obnoxious. I’m sure Louis would be more than happy to deal with them.”_

_Harvey just laughs at him._

_When they’re finished with their dinner, they make small talk about the clients they still share, and discuss upcoming events. McKernon Motors has an event approaching that they’re both expected to be at._

_Some twenty minutes after, when their food has settled, Hunter comes out and asks if they’re ready for their desert. They opt to have it boxed up, and head out instead, catching a cab back to the penthouse._

_Upon arriving home, Harvey is very suggestive about taking a shower together, which Mike says yes to without even considering another option._

_It isn’t until forty minutes later, when the water has run cold and Mike is running out of energy from the day that Mike realizes that they know nothing about the gender of their child still, and their desert is sitting on the counter, untouched._

_“So I guess we should eat dessert,” Mike comments as he strolls into kitchen, wrapped only in a towel._

_“Why?” Harvey calls from the bedroom. “We can eat it tomorrow.”_

_“Because,” Mike replies. “I wanna know.”_  
  
_Harvey walks into the kitchen a moment later in boxers, running his fingers through his wet hair. “Know what?”_  
  
_”What we’re having,” Mike replies. “I got Gia to set it up this afternoon.”_

_The look on Harvey’s face is priceless as he closes the distance between them. Mike isn’t sure what he’s going to do, but just as Harvey reaches him, he turns to the to-go container and opens the lid. Inside sits a small circular cake covered in white icing. On top, it reads ‘It’s a...’._

_“It’s a what?” Harvey asks, confused._

_Mike reaches up onto the inside of the lid and pulls off a small envelope taped to the top of it. “Guess it’s a good thing we didn’t drop it.”_

_“How in the world do you put the answer to a gender in a cake?” Harvey asks as he rounds the counter. He opens a drawer and pulls out a knife and two forks before returning to Mike’s side._

_“Colored m &m’s,” Mike shrugs. “Or food coloring.”_

_Harvey looks at him skeptically for a moment and then offers the knife. “Shall we find out together?”_

_Mike nods, and together the slice down the center of the cake before pulling the knife up and cutting again. Harvey turns the container around and then places one of the forks under the slice of cake and exhales a breath before he lifts it. They’re both quiet for a moment, staring at the color of the cake before the look up at each other._

_Harvey smiles at him. “We got a boy.”_

_Mike grins at him, and Harvey places the slice of cake on the lid of the to-go container before dropping the fork and pulling Mike into him, kissing the younger man._

_“I couldn’t choose a better person to have a son with,” he says softly. Mike nudges his nose up against Harvey’s and kisses him back._

 

When Mike returns home, he expects to find the apartment empty. Instead, Oliver is passed out on the couch while a movie continues on the TV, and Harvey appears to be in the kitchen, from what Mike can hear. He strides into the kitchen.

“I thought you’d leave,” he says softly.

Harvey shrugs as he places a grilled cheese in the skillet on the stove. “It’s your night, and he didn’t want to leave his movie. Donna and I cleaned up, but he asked for a grilled cheese, so-”

“It’s fine, although Ollie fell asleep, so...” Mike responds as he waves a hand dismissively at Harvey cooking. He sits down at the counter and sighs as he rests his head in his hands.

The silence withers on between them as Harvey continues what he’s doing, and Mike continues to brood silently. Harvey doesn’t attempt to interrupt Mike’s train of thought, given that Donna’s words are still fresh in his mind, and he’s still firm in his resolve. There’s no way to keep Mike and Oliver safe if they’re together.

Eventually, Mike sits up and rests his hands on the counter as he glances out towards the living room. It’s quiet aside from the movie, so he’s pretty sure Oliver is out for the night.

“Do you remember the night that Gia called and said he had started kicking?” Mike asks. He looks over at Harvey just as the other man looks up at him. Harvey nods.

“We had just settled the Johnson Juicery case, and we were out celebrating. She called and I wanted to go straight over,” he says.

Mike nods. “You used to care about this family more than anything else. And I’ve spent more than four years trying to figure out what the hell I did to ruin that.”  
  
Harvey sighs. “I never said you did anything. All of this never had a thing to do with something you did wrong.”

“See, and that’s the problem,” Mike argues. “You say I didn’t do anything wrong. I know you would never cheat on me...so what the fuck, Harvey?”

Harvey shakes his head, exhaling a long breath. “I’m not going to fight about this. Not tonight.”

“See, and that’s just the God-damn thing,” Mike says. “You never want to fight about this. Ever. You just up and decided one day that loving us didn’t matter anymore. Only your agenda did.”  
  
Harvey shakes his head and turns the stove off, picking the sandwich up out of it with a spatula and dropping it onto a paper plate next to the stove before he drops the spatula in the sink. He picks up the skillet, looking up at Mike.

“That’s because you don’t actually care what I feel or what I think about the whole situation. All you care about is your agenda in the whole situation. Whether that includes my happiness or not,” He comments.

“This isn’t about your happiness, and you God-damn know it,” Mike yells. Harvey growls at him, looking off towards the living room, but there’s no noise.

“You just-”  
  
”Son of a bitch!” Harvey growls, and in an instant, Mike can see why as Harvey’s grip on the metal handle with a pot holder had slipped, and the burning hot skillet hit Harvey’s left hand as it dropped into the sink, quickly turning the back of his forearm and wrist bright red.

All rage drops out of Mike’s brain as he rounds the counter and flips the water on with a flick of his hand and pulls Harvey’s hand under the stream.

Harvey hisses for a moment as the water runs over his arm, until it stings a little less and the water begins to help. He breathes in deep breaths.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs to Mike. Mike looks up at him, and there are so many different emotions running through him that he really doesn’t have a response for Harvey. He’s angry, hurt, frustrated...and sorry that Harvey got burned, all at once.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” Mike mutters before he releases his gentle grip on Harvey’s arm. He breathes and then steps away. “I think I’ve got some burn cream and bandages in the bathroom.”

Harvey shakes his head as he turns the water off. “It’s fine. I can get it at home. But thank you.”

Mike doesn’t really have a response for Harvey, so he just nods, and then follows him into the living room, though he stops when he reaches the couch. He leans down and lifts Oliver up into his arms nudging the kid up so that his drooling mouth rests on Mike’s shoulder. He walks off into Oliver’s bedroom as Harvey exits the apartment, and settles the kid in bed, grateful that Harvey at least dressed Oliver in his pajamas while he was gone.

As he tucks Oliver in, the kid mutters unintelligibly about something, and then snuggles up to a stuffed owl Donna got him for Christmas. Mike leans down and kisses his temple, murmurs an ‘I love you’ and then tucks Oliver’s blankets tighter around him before turning and leaving the room.

When he returns to the kitchen, he spots the grilled cheese sitting on the counter, and he hates it. Oliver likes Harvey’s grilled cheese because Mike liked Harvey’s grilled cheeses. They were their go-to drunken snack, following any party or night out. The grilled cheese brought only good memories, and that only served to hurt Mike’s heart. So just as quickly as he had the thought to eat it, he picked up the plate and then dropped it into the trash. He was tired of letting his emotions keep his heart in the past.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize dearly for literally taking ages to update this. I have no decent excuse other than my depression creating writers block, but still. I promise I still know exactly where this is going, and will try to update more than once a year. (Also, I fought with the formatting for quite a bit, so if it's still not perfect, I'm sorry :( .)

Mike is barely awake when a knock sounds on his door the next morning. Files are open and lying crisscrossed across the coffee table , still open from the night before. Granted, there’s no reason for it, given that it’s Saturday, but that hardly stops any lawyer he knows, let alone himself.

He shoves up from the couch and groans, wishing he’d made it to his bed the night before. He vaguely recalls a thought about moving when he saw the clock at one AM, but the thought obviously didn’t make it far enough.

He pulls at the buttons of his dress white button-down dress shirt as he walks over to the door, stifling another grown as someone knocks again. 

“I’m coming,” he mutters as he reaches the door. He turns the lock and opens the door, to the sight of Rachel on the other side. “Hi?”

“Hey,” she says, pushing the door open further. She steps past him into the penthouse apartment and then turns to face him. “What happened last night?”

Mike rolls his eyes and shakes his head as he closes the door. “Nothing. We argued and then he burned himself, and I told him I was tired of all the crap.”

“Wait, he burned himself?” Rachel asks. “Like-”

“Like he dropped a pan on accident,” Mike explains. “But it is what it is.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Rachel comments. “I think we need to get you out of here and out on a date. And whether is another guy or a chick, I’ve got some leads.”  
  
Mike chuckles at her, shaking his head as he walks into the kitchen. “The last thing I need right now is to find someone to date. Besides, Oliver would ****hate****  it.”

“Oliver would find a way to suck it up,” Rachel counters. “Especially if he got to see his father ****happy****.” 

“Wait, I thought you were all over this whole thing that Donna was about me and Harvey getting back together,” he comments before adding, “as though that would happen in a million years.”

“Um, no, that’s been Donna’s endeavor since the day Oliver was born,” Rachel says. “That’s not to say that if Harvey makes you happy that you shouldn’t be with him. But clearly you need to date someone else so you can move the hell on,” she says. Mike just laughs at her.

“Did you eat breakfast,” he asks as he walks over to the fridge. He pulls the milk out and then heads for the cupboards, pulling a box of cereal from one and a bowl from another.

“Yes,” she says. “And you’re deflecting.”

Mike looks up at her. “I have Oliver until tomorrow, and I work Monday morning. I literally don’t have __time__ to date.”

“You don’t want to ****make****  time,” Rachel counters as she rounds the counter and grabs a spoon out of the utensil drawer. “I have two kids, and babysitting Oliver has never been a problem for me; ****and****  I’m pretty sure if you asked Donna, she’d probably be willing to do it, too. What’s your next excuse?”

Mike sighs, looking up at her. “Rachel-”

“Seriously, make it a good one,” she teases.

“What if I don’t _want_ to date,” he comments as he pours cereal into a bowl for himself. She offers him the spoon, and he takes it. Rachel replaces the cap on his milk and returns it and the cereal to their respective places. For a nanosecond, Mike can recall a life they might’ve had, ages ago when he still had interest in being with her. It was a brief period in their relationship that ended fairly quickly, but that never stopped Rachel from treating him like that relationship had continued, especially when she felt like she needed to make a point to him.

“I don’t ****care****  if you don’t want to date,” Rachel argues. “You’ve been single for four damn years, waiting around for Harvey to wake up and realize that you’re who he wants. Quite frankly, I’m sick of his bullshit. It seems to me that he gives you the runaround when he wants to get laid, but the minute you tell him that you’re not willing to settle for just that, he wants to act like he was never even into you. That asshole once wanted to marry you and make babies with you, and now he just wants to take you to bed.

“Furthermore, it’s been so damn long since you’ve been on a date, I’m not sure you know what it’s actually like to ****want****  to go out,” Rachel states. “Look, just go out tonight. I’ll take Oliver, and just...I don’t know. Go to a damn bar and flirt.”

Mike huffs. “I really hate you sometimes.”

Rachel grins. “You love me, and you know it.”

.,.

 

Mike is ready to put his fist through a mirror. Rachel spent the better part of the morning hanging out with him and Oliver, and then she made a convenient excuse to leave, making sure she had Oliver in tow. He was sure when Harvey got the kid in the afternoon he’d likely be over-tired and hungover from the sugar he was sure Rachel and Logan would allow his son to have. He was pretty sure he’d heard her mention something about Coney Island...

As it was, when she left, he largely considered laying around on the couch and just chilling out for the night. However when Rachel started blowing up his phone at eight PM to check on where he was, it became harder and harder to lie. Which is how he finds himself standing in front of his mirror grimacing as he yanks on the grey henley he’s wearing, and he can’t help feeling like a dumb ass. His phone buzzes in his pocket yet again.

“What?”He growls when he answers.

 _“Okay chill,”_ Rachel replies. _“Your son wants to say goodnight. Oh, and get out from in front of the mirror and leave your home already.”_

“Seriously,” Mike asks as he pulls his phone away from his head to check the time. “It’s barely nine PM. I know you’ve been filling him up on sugar, and-”

_“Yes, I fully intend on returning your child to his other parent wiped out and begging for more sugar. However when he finally crashes at eleven thirty, I fully expect you to be in the middle of some grand conversation with a guy sexy enough to make me wish he played for my team,” Rachel said, trying not to giggle. “So you can say goodnight to the four year old now.”_

“Alright,” Mike chuckled. There was a bit of shuffling with the phone before Mike could hear Oliver’s voice clearly. He walked out of his bedroom and turned the lights off. “Hey buddy.”

 _“Hi daddy!”_ Oliver was giddy on a level that Mike knew from experience only came from a surplus of sugar. Juice, chocolate, __and__  soda, he suspected. _“I love you!”_

Mike chuckled. “I love you too, kiddo. I’ll see you in the morning, ok?”

 _ _“_ Kay,” _Oliver giggled. There was more shuffling while Mike tucked his keys into his pocket along with eighty dollars. He was too damn old to expect to need his ID.

 _ _“_ Hey,” _Rachel said a moment later. _“Are you out of your place yet?”_

“Just walking out now,” Mike said as he headed towards the door.

 _“Alright. Bye. Oh! Call me if you completely bomb,”_ Rachel said. She ended the call shortly thereafter, and Mike tucked his phone into his pocket before opening the door to his penthouse. As he stepped outside the door, he turned to lock it.

“Mike?”  
  
He glanced up in the direction of his name being called, spotted Harvey standing in his own doorway several feet away. He had reading glasses on, and the sight of him wearing them made Mike’s throat tighten. Harvey didn’t start needing the glasses until after. The strain of reading small print and computer screens all day made his head hurt, and the glasses helped--not that he was willing to wear them at work.

“Headed out?” Harvey asked.

Mike considered responding but instead decided simply on nodding. He finished locking his door and then turned and headed towards the elevator.

“Ollie?” Harvey questioned.

“With Rachel until tomorrow,” Mike responded without turning around.

“Is he-”

Mike turned on his heel to see Harvey, though he kept walking. “He’s fine, Harvey. Good night.”

He rounded the corner a moment later and punched the button for the elevator.

Twenty minutes later, he walked into a bar he hadn’t been in since first getting hired at what was then Pearson Hardman. Granted, he frequented a number of bars back then, but when he was seeking interest in a guy, he usually headed to Cowboy Up.

The name of the business was awful, and completely sold itself as something other than what it actually was. Though frequented by gay men, it wasn’t specifically tailored to them, and it was anything ****but**** a honky-tonk bar. Back when Mike spent enough time there to classify himself as friends to the owner, Wilson, he’d heard the story about how it got it’s name. Wilson had married one of the owners of a prominent beer company. While his wife was cool with him doing whatever made him happy, his father-in-law always disapproved, and when the Wilson ended up without a job, his wife pulled a few strings and got him a job at a bar the family owned. The money was menial, but he worked his way up, and when his father-in-law felt he’d earned his keep, he offered to let Wilson buy him out and do what he wanted with the bar.

As such, when Wilson cashed in, he largely left the bar the same, aside from resurfacing the bar and furniture, and of course, renaming the bar. Down came the surname of his father-in-law’s late grandfather, and in place of it the name came from the one piece of advice Wilson’s father-in-law gave him that he never forgot: __‘_ You better cowboy up, son. I ain’t waitin’ around on a child.’_

“If it isn’t Mike Ross!”

Mike glances up and spots Wilson a few feet away behind the bar. He grins and walks up, shaking the man’s hand.

“Hey man, how’s it goin’?” He asks.

Wilson shrugs, rubbing a wet washcloth over spilled beer. “Same as always. How’s your kid?”

Mike grins. “As smart as ever. He’s gonna be running our firm by the time he’s a teenager. What about you and Kelly though? Any kids yet?”

Wilson shrugs again, tossing the washcloth under the bar. “Beer?”

“Ah, I’ll start with a Jack and Coke,” Mike replies. As he digs for his money, Wilson works on his drink.

“Eh, we tried for a while, did the whole medical testing thing, found out we both just kind-of suck genetically,” Wilson replies. “But Pops insisted he wanted us to pursue all options, so he put up the money for IVF.”

Mike raises his eyebrows in surprise. He knows how expensive that can be, and the fact that Wilson’s father-in-law was willing to pay for it speaks volumes to him.

“Anyhow, it took a few cycles, but the twins’ll be six months old in a few weeks,” Wilson states happily.

Mike smiles at him. When Wilson pushes his drink towards him, Mike hands over his money. “That’s awesome, man! Congratulations!”

Wilson nods. “Yeah. We’re lookin’ into what we’re gonna do next ‘cause she wants more kids, but enough about me. What about you? Any more kids planned for?”

Mike shrugs, shaking his head. “Gotta be in a relationship to make that happen.”

Wilson nods, though he doesn’t respond, and Mike doesn’t either. Wilson is yet another person who was pissed at Harvey after he decided he no longer wanted to be with Mike.

“Wilson!” Someone calls him from down the bar, and he waves to Mike before walking away. Mike grabs a seat at the bar and nurses his drink, turning it on the paper coaster Wilson had placed it on.

Cowboy Up feels like a safe place because he knows the owners. But even more than that, he’s rarely ever been there with Harvey, way back when. That fact alone was largely what drove him to the bar. Before he and Harvey were a thing and after Rachel, he frequented the bar because Wilson was basically the only friend he had outside of work. Plus, on top of decent conversation with his favorite barkeep, Wilson had always taken good care of him as a customer. When he was single and alone, Wilson always make sure Mike didn’t get so drunk he couldn’t hold himself together, and always made sure he got home. Still, what sold Mike on Wilson being someone he should consider a friend, was a night long before Oliver had been born when he’d ordered a drink, only to become momentarily distracted by his phone. In the time it took him to glance away and make sure he hadn’t missed something from Harvey about work, someone standing around the crowded bar slipped something into his drink. Wilson all but ran halfway down the bar and slapped the drink out of Mike’s hand as he was about to take a sip, sending alcohol and glass shards down the bar. Sure, it was messy, and Mike and a few others ended up with minor cuts, but it stopped something much worse from happening.

“Beer!”

Mike glanced up as the stranger next to him lifted his empty, requested a refill. The guy looked at him after a moment.

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” he comments in a thick New England accent. “You know Wilson.”

Mike nodded. “Yep. Used to hang around here quite a bit. You?”

The guy nodded. “Yeah. I made my way around Manhattan bars when I moved here, but I realized I kind-of like that Wilson knows his customers. Couldn’t stand going to a bar where they didn’t know my name after that.” He extended a hand to Mike. “I’m Presley.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Like Elvis?”

Presley nodded, grimacing. “My parents were obsessed.”

Mike chuckled, though he shrugged after a moment. “I mean, I wasn’t named after the king of Rock and Roll, so you got me there.” He offered up his own hand, shaking Presley’s. “I’m Mike. Named after Saint Michael.”

Presley nodded, taking a seat on the stool next to Mike.

“Yeah, I don’t know much about Christianity,” Presley said. “God is good and all that, but that’s about it.”

Mike chuckled. “I would say the same, if I hadn’t spent the better part of my formative years in Catholic school.”

“Yet here you sit in a relatively ‘gay’ bar,” Presley chuckled. “Catholic school have something to do with that?”

Mike furrowed his brow, shook his head. “No, not really. Although if a nun __never__ slaps my hand with a ruler again, it would be too soon.”

He and Presley both laugh.

“Wait, but I thought they weren’t allowed to do that anymore,” Presley says when he’s recomposed himself. “School ethics and all of that.”

Mike shrugs, chuckling. “Yeah, well, that was the nineties.”

Presley stares at him for a long moment and furrows his brow, confused. The pause in conversation allows Mike to actually look at the man in front of him. His head is covered in what Mike assumed was probably once jet black curly hair, though it contains shades of gray now. However, it’s his crystal blue eyes that make it hard for Mike to look away.

“You can’t be that old,” Presley comments. “You look twelve.”  
  
Mike shakes his head, laughs the comment off. “Um, then I guess I shouldn’t be drinking this,” he jokes before sipping his coke.

“Yeah, let me just take that off your hands,” Presley jokes. He reaches over as though he’s going to take the drink from Mike, though he stops short of actually crossing that boundary. Mike chuckles again, takes another drink of his coke.

“Should I assume you work for the ATF at this rate?” Mike asks when he’s replaced the glass back on the bar.

Presley shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. “Not at all. I run a free clinic in the Bronx. We supply treatment largely to the homeless and underemployed.”

“What are you doing all the way over in Manhattan then?” Mike asks.

Presley shrugs. “Seeking donors. I’m trying to get another clinic opened in Brooklyn.”

Mike nods, feeling his interest piquing.

“Anyhow,” Presley comments. “What’s your occupation of choice?”

Mike gulps. lifting his glass again. He mutters his response as his glass reaches his lips, as though it might shield his response.

“Pardon?” Presley comments. “You- you’re a lawyer?”

Mike nods when he’s sufficiently polished off what’s left in his glass. He glances at Presley’s empty beer and then leans forward, holding his glass up. “Wilson! Refill!”

“Okay, seriously, you’re a lawyer? A bloodsucker? A pri-”

“Hey!” Mike laughed. “Yes, I’m a lawyer.”

“Please at least tell me that you work in the district attorney’s office,” Presley comments.

Mike struggles not to comment on the corrupt mess that is the DA’s office, and Wilson saves him by walking up.

“Presley, another beer?” Wilson asks. “And another Jack and coke, Mike?”

Both men nod, and Wilson takes their empties while they both dig into their pockets for money.

“So, the DA’s office?” Presley asks again.

“Yeah, no,” Mike replies. “I work at Pearson Specter Litt.”

“They’re in the press a lot,” Presley comments. “What department are you in?”

“Litigation,” Mike replied. “They tend to frown upon it, but there’s nothing I love more than being in the courtroom.”

“A huge law firm like that,” Presley comments, feigning a gasp. “No way.”

Wilson slides their drinks in front of them and grabs their money, exchanging their cash for change before handing their money back to them and moving back down the bar at someone else’s request for attention.

Mike spends the better part of the next two hours sitting and talking with Presley. When he feels he’s covered every interesting part of his career, he quiets and allows Presley to regale him with stories about running a free clinic, and ends up finding himself shocked at how many similar situations they’ve found themselves in.

At some point, Presley brings them a plate of food to soak up some of the alcohol Mike and Presley have drank after they each order a fifth drink. Afterwards, they dismiss themselves from the bar to play a round of pool, which turns into two, and then three. By the time they’ve finished their fourth game, Mike finally realizes how much the building has emptied out. He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time, gapes at it.

“It’s one AM,” he asks rhetorically. He glances up towards the bar, spots the clock above it and realizes his phone is correct. After a moment, he glances up at Presley and chuckles. “I can’t remember the last time I was out at a bar this late.”

Presley waggles an eyebrow at him and smirks, stepping towards him. “Do you have to be heading somewhere?”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just his own general need for spite, but for the first time in a long time, Mike wanted to take someone home, and moreover, he wanted to take this guy home. Regardless of all the anxiety he had felt before leaving home that night, he was actually enjoying himself and ****wanted**** to continue the evening.

“Not necessarily,” he flirted back. “However, we’re clearly holding Wilson up from closing up early tonight,”he joked as he looked over towards the bar. “My place is around the corner and I’ve got a fresh stock of coffee and greasy food, so…”He trailed off as his eyes fell to Presley’s lips.

Presley smirked at him. “Sure. Coffee’s my middle name.”

 

.,.

 

The sun was barely cracking through Mike’s blackout curtains when his eyes opened the next morning. He groaned softly as he dragged his forearm over his face, entirely unready to wake up. A moment later, he hears soft chuckling, and though reluctant, he moves his arm down from on top of his face to spot Presley buttoning up his shirt.

Mike furrows his brow. “Where’re you going?”

“I have a noon meeting, and I have to go home and shower,” he replies softly. “This was fun, though. We should do it again.”  
  
Mike nods, leans up on his elbows as he watches the other man search for his shoes. After three cups of coffee and a pint of ice cream the night before, they’d finally gone to bed together with very little attention focused on where anything landed. Mike wasn’t even sure where his keys currently were.

Presley finally finds his shoes and settles on the edge of the bed to tug them on.

“You should know something before we even consider making future plans,” Mike comments. Presley looks up at him, curious.

“Are you married,” he teases.

Mike rolls his eyes. “No. But I have a kid, and we’re a package deal.”

Presley nods, smiles. “I kinda figured when I saw the pictures on my to the bathroom this morning.”

“So kids aren’t a problem for you,” Mike asks.

Presley shakes his head. “I’ve got a kid of my own, although admittedly, she isn’t as cute as yours. But that might have something to do with this rage phase that came along when she turned fifteen.”

Mike chuckles. “So maybe we leave them out of this for a while, then?”

“That’d probably be best,” Presley replies. “I wouldn’t want you to suddenly fall ill because my daughter creates a voodoo doll in your name.”

_“Do we really need all of this crap,” Harvey asks as he surveys the gifts they received at the baby shower. They have less than eight weeks before their son will be along, and in the past two, their apartment seems to have vomited baby items from the way they’ve suddenly shown up._

_“I would say no, but apparently I’d be wrong,” Mike replies as he moves the exersaucer up against a wall on the edge of the nursery. “Did you call about the rocking chair yet?”_

_“Donna did,” Harvey replies as he nudges the changing table over a few inches. An unopened package of diapers falls off, and he reaches out, grabs them before they hit the floor. “I guess after a stern talking-to, they said the chair will be here by the end of the week.”_

_“Thank God for Donna,” Mike mutters softly. He finishes shuffling things to his liking and turns around, scowls when he sees Harvey has moved the changing table. He walks over and attempts to move it, only for Harvey to hold it in place._

_“No. It’s fine where it is.”_  
  
_”It was fine where it ** **was**** ,” Mike argues._

_“If you don’t leave it, there won’t be any room between it and the chair. The chair will scrape against the wood,” Harvey insists. Mike grumbles, and Harvey rolls his eyes, reaches out and grabs Mike’s shirt by the collar._

_“Hush,” Harvey replies gruffly as he tugs Mike towards him. He brushes his lips over Mike’s, and though Mike is still frustrated, after a brief moment, he kisses Harvey. A few seconds later, he steps back._

_“Can’t solve every argument with sex,” Mike comments._

_Harvey smirks at him, his eyes wide with wanton. “Maybe not. But a baby is going to steal every chance we get at it in a matter of weeks, so…”_

_Mike gives him a skeptic pause, and then smiles back at him. “So lead the way.”_


End file.
